


The Chamber

by White_Rainbow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sebastian Shaw Anakin, Sickfic, Vader's true face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 05:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12149277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow
Summary: Kriff it,Piett thought.I nearly died in a swamp today. If I want to imagine Darth Vader holding me in a tender embrace...I might as well indulge myself.





	The Chamber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laivaaja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laivaaja/gifts).



> For my licorice-buddy Laivaaja who tricked me into loving Pieder. :3

Piett had insisted on accompanying Vader on this mission to Nal Hutta.

“Your huttese is too tailored to the Tattooine dialect," Piett had argued, "and I know the Nal Hutta slang.”

Even as Vader agreed with Piett, he had a bad feeling about this.

Piett had also insisted that the wound he sustained in the swamp almost immediately on their arrival on Nal Hutta was little more than “a scratch.”

Now, two miles from the shuttle's clandestine location, the fever was beginning to spread.

Vader could feel the toxicity linger around Piett like a layer of smog.

“You are unwell, Captain,” Vader insisted. “You need to return to the ship.”

“No.” Piett said, wiping the sweat away from his temples. “This smuggler was captured by the Hutts for a reason. We need to interrogate him now before he escapes and rabbits out of the whole system.”

Vader clenched his fists. Anger sparked at Vader’s core as Piett waded shakily through the swamp, more sweat replacing what the captain wiped from his face

Piett was known to be stubborn in his ideals, but so often those ideals aligned with Vader’s own agenda.

This may have been the first time Vader disagreed with him.

“Captain…”

“My lord, honestly I am-” Piett turned to face Vader, but as he shifted his legs gave out entirely. Vader shot his hand out just in time to hold the Captain in place and keep him from falling into the foul muck again.

As Piett’s cap fell off, Vader found Piett’s wispy brown hair plastered to his head, his hooded, dark eyes were all but closed, and his skin was pale even for the officer’s norm.

“I am sorry...I…” Piett’s voice was weak and he began to shudder once again.

Vader gathered the shivering captain in his arms. He shifted his gaze from Nal Hutta to the shuttle. The gates of Balbousa was a mile ahead. The shuttle was two miles back.

Piett let out a soft whimper and pressed his feverish head against Vader’s chest. Vader looked down to see the man’s trembling hand finding purchase against the control panel of his suit.

Panic and shame jolted him at seeing someone other than himself touch his chest plate, the very center of his life support and a life-time of painful memories. Yet, when Piett laid his hand across it, his body began to calm, as if finding comfort in holding the cold, metal plate.

“Captain…” Vader brushed a hand across Piett’s sweat-soaked face. “Stay with me”

He knew he only had one option in saving Piett’s life.

He hoped Piett would forgive him.

\-----

When Piett opened his eyes he did not know where he was.

He wore only his tank shirt and his standard issue boxers with his socks still latched to his garters.

The air around him was cool and moist, it eased the congestion in his lungs and created a pleasant mist on his skin. As he shifted he realized he was curled up, his face pressed against something warm and hard.

One hand clung to black fabric tightly. He loosened his grip, realizing it belonged to a silky-cotton shirt.

“Do not be afraid,” came a familiar voice. It was deep and strained, uninhibited by a voice enhancer. “You are in a safe place for the moment.”

“M...my lord?” Horror and humiliation set in when he realized he was curled in the lap of the great Sith Lord, face pressed against a broad chest, body cradled in great, thick arms as if he was little more than a weak child.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

The longer they sat, the more Piett’s mind began to clear and he examined his surroundings. The room they were in was not unlike a large, white dome. A narrow bench lined the chamber and in the center was a pure white stool. The light seemed to come from within the pale walls themselves, but the glow was gentle on the eyes. A cool mist came from dozens of vents lined where the floor met the curved walls.

“Where are we, my lord?”

“In my meditation chamber.”

“My lord! I am so sorry, I-”

“Be silent,” Vader’s voice was clipped, but not unkind. “I had little choice but to bring you in here. It was not ideal, but your body temperature fluctuated at a rate too erratic for our simple med bay in this shuttle. I had to administer the stimpack in here to avoid your body going into shock.”

Piett’s heart began to pound as he realized he was still holding on to the fabric of Vader’s armorless suit. As he let go of the shirt, Vader’s hold on him began to relax as well, and Piett eased himself from the Dark lord’s embrace. Through blurry eyes he managed to find the pale bench beside the dark lord and settled himself.

As curious as he was, Piett dared not look at Vader. In his peripheral vision, he could make out that Vader was wearing a pair of shorts that went just above the knee and a black shirt that came up to his neck. The redness of his exposed skin was jarring in the pale white light of the chamber. He could also see the glimmer of metallic limbs on the edges of his long boots and gloves which remained on.

Most importantly, Piett was very aware that Vader was without his helmet. Respect and fear weighed down Piett’s gaze.

“How do you feel?” Vader asked. Even without the modifier his voice was graveled and intimidating. Piett knew Vader long enough to know the question was not a demand, but his cadence made everything sound as if it was.

Piett considered the question, shifting and testing his muscles. “I feel...better, actually.”

In the swamp, Piett felt as if he were being burned alive, his muscles were knotted and his eyes felt as if they would melt from their sockets. Now, he just felt weak. His muscles were relaxed, the moisture in the room was soothing, and all his discomfort was less physical and more regarding the fact he was in his skivvies in front of the most powerful Sith Lord in the galaxy.

“Thank you, my lord…” he mumbled. “It was foolish of me to be so careless in an unfamiliar world.”

“It was,” Vader agreed. “You put the mission in jeopardy.”

Piett nodded, miserably. “Yes, my lord.”

Vader took a soft breath, and Piett could hear the quiet wheeze behind it. It seemed as if he was about to say something else, but only a tense silence hung in the air.

“I shall leave you to your meditation, my lord,” Piett said, rising to leave.

“It is not necessary.”

Piett sat down immediately. “Are you sure? I am well enough.”

Vader did not answer right away.

“Leave if you wish. Your presence, however, is not a disturbance.”

Piett felt his cheeks warm. “Thank you, my lord.” He eased himself back onto the bench as Vader rose.

Vader moved towards the stool in the center of the room, which sank into the floor as he approached. His mechanical legs whirred and hissed softly as sat on the floor, crossing and tucking his legs into a meditative position. His arms rested on his knees.

With Vader’s back turned to the captain, Piett dared to look up and see the deeply scarred skin across the bald head of the dark lord.

The sheer amount of agony that came with such wounds...Piett’s heart ached at the thought of it.

Vader terrified many in the Fleet. Death Squadron was a place where an officer’s career could soar one moment, then be cut off entirely the next. Vader was known to kill an officer simply by questioning his command.

Many joked it was safer to be a stormtrooper under Vader’s gaze than an officer.

Piett never found this to be the case.

He never admitted this to anyone, but Piett always found Vader’s presence reassuring. When Vader was around, he brought with him a heavy veil of accountability. He was the storm that washed away the weak branches off sturdy trees, and although Piett never fancied himself strong, he was clever enough to weather the storms Vader brought with him.

“You are unsettled by my appearance?” Vader’s question came out more searching than accusatory.

Piett was suddenly very aware at how tight his chest was at the sight of Vader without his suit. He knew he could not lie to the Sith Lord.

And in all honesty, he did not want to.

“Are you in much pain?”

Vader’s head turned ever so slightly, exposing just a bit more of the mottled skin on his cheek. “Your concern is appreciated,” was all he replied and Piett knew better than to press.

While Vader meditated, Piett closed his eyes and tried to find his “center” or whatever the Jedi called it.

He wondered if it was different for a Sith. Did they find something else other than peace? What did Vader use as a source of meditation?

Rather than try to find that elusive calm of a Jedi, Piett’s mind found itself wandering back to the warmth of Vader’s embrace moments earlier. His hand could still feel the soft fabric of his shirt, his cheek still felt the firmness of the Sith Lord’s chest.

He missed the safety of those powerful arms wrapped around him.

How long had Vader held him like that?

What could have gone through his mind?

_“Do not be afraid…”_

It did not feel like a command...in fact, it almost sounded like a plea.

Did Vader fear Piett would recoil?

Piett opened his eyes and looked at the still figure in front of him, undoubtedly consumed in his meditation.

He wished he could ask these questions…

More dangerous ones were lurking in his mind that he should not have been thinking…

_Does he know how much I care?_

Piett had told himself far too many times his comfort around Vader was that of a professional nature.

Yet, the way he clung to the Sith Lord in his feverish state...he knew it was more than just a desperate grip of a sick man.

Piett closed his eyes again.

 _Kriff it,_ Piett thought. _I nearly died in a swamp today. If I want to imagine Darth Vader holding me in a tender embrace...I might as well indulge myself._

He imagined the way Vader’s leather gloves held him so firmly, yet gently. Despite his limbs being little more than robotic parts, they were still controlled by Vader’s mind. He held Piett as softly as he would if he were holding him in arms of flesh and blood.

Piett imagined nuzzling his cheek against the bare, scarred skin, hoping that his touch would give the tortured flesh some relief.

It was _his_ fantasy, so he just imagined it would...and he imagined he could look up into Vader’s inscrutable gaze and feel a sense of calmness in him…

The same calmness Vader drew out of the young Captain when in his presence.

“I am glad you are safe, Captain,” Vader said, suddenly.

Piett opened his eyes.”My lord?”

“...I feared I would lose you to the sickness.”

Piett swallowed hard. “Thank you for saving me, my lord...I apologize for being a burden.”

“You are never a burden to me. I have always...appreciated your loyalty.”

“I always will be loyal to you, my lord,” Piett said, hoping he did not sound too desperate, but his heart was pounding furiously now and his words reflected the urgency.

He wanted to tell Vader so much more, that his loyalty went beyond the requirements of duty.

Piett would do anything for his Sith Lord, should only he ask.

Vader rose from his sitting position, his head bowed for a moment as if issuing a final prayer...

“You may look away if you wish…” Vader said, the stool rising up once again.

For the first time Piett noticed that the helmet anchored to the top of the chamber was facing Piett as was the stool.

Vader would have to face him in order to wear it.

Piett licked his lips nervously. “May I...see you?”

Vader did not respond.

And slowly, he turned around.

While the rest of his body showed a rough, roadmap of scarred and mottled skin, his face was relatively smooth if not a bit ghastly. Two deep scars ran across his pale cheek and along a hairless head.

Piett could see he was positively dashing before Mustafar, and that dark, handsomeness still held in his strong jawline, narrow nose and prominent chin.

Vader’s eyes, however, were downcast.

Piett longed to see their color.

“My lord?” He breathed quietly, hoping to coax his gaze.

“Time and pain has shaped me, Firmus…” Vader explained. “This face is not one you deserve to look upon.”

“And yet you still give me this honor, my lord,” Piett replied, hoping he was not overstepping himself. “Our scars are testament to what we’ve overcome and you have overcome more than most. I wish you did not have to go through what you did.” Piett ventured to take a step forward and tilted his head in hopes to catch Vader’s eye. “But for what it is worth...I am happy you are here.”

Vader raised his eyes.

Piett’s breath hitched.

Piett could tell Vader’s eyes were once a pair of intense blue orbs. Now that azure light was adorned with a ring of glittering gold, and centered with a passion-fueled scarlet.

Piett could not restrain the smile that crept along his lips.

This was the Vader he hoped existed beneath that helmet.

“Thank you for letting me see you.”

Vader tilted his head. “I am almost disappointed you do not fear me.”

“How do you know I am not afraid?” Piett asked, though truly he had never felt so calm.

“Because I am the one who fosters fear, one who feeds off of it. You are...a meager meal.”

Piett laughed at this. “I always was nothing, but skin and bones.”

Vader did not join in the laugh, merely gave the captain a thoughtful glance. “If you are fit, shall we try this mission again?”

Piett nodded eagerly. “I will exercise utmost caution, my lord. I am determined to prove my worth to you.”

Vader’s smile was faint and fleeting, but it was an image that would forever be burned into Piett’s mind for the rest of his life. “Your worth to me far exceeds what you imagine, Firmus…”

Piett licked his lips and bowed. “As is yours, my lord…”


End file.
